Pokemon: Children of Chaos
by Pokemon John
Summary: A young boy washes ashore and is saved from death by a stranger. He awakens to find that most of his memories have been lost. Can he survive in a dangerous world where the Pokemon League is no more and gangs war over power and prestige?


Pokemon: Children of Chaos

By Pokemon John

Author's note:

This story has been a long time in the making. Inspiration began many years ago when I read two fanfics on the long extinct They were _Aquatro and the Hunt for Mew-3 _and _Phoenix Rising_, the latter being written by Michael Anastas. I'm not sure who wrote the first one. These were the first "dark" pokemon fics I had ever read, and at the time I thought they were amazing. A few years later I read Ace Sanchez's novel-length _Pokemon Master_. That started the gears a turnin' again. About two years after that all those years of longing to write a dark fic out of nowhere, the lightening bolt of inspiration struck and I just _had_ to write. I had the basic idea for a setting, but other than that I had no idea where the story was going. I _still_ don't know this, in all honesty. So, join me in finding out what happens and enjoy the fic.

I should perhaps not get ahead of myself, and give you a little info on what this fic will and won't have. It will _not_ have familiar characters in it. It _will_ take place in a region I made up. It _will_ _probably_ have some pokemon I made up. It _will_ _probably_ have some pokemon made up by the extinct It _will_ have swearing. It _may eventually_ have sexual content. It _may_ have graphic violence and/or death.

Anyway, if those things will traumatize you, this fic isn't for you. If not, I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

Part 1: Vanished Memories

"Not the power to remember, but its very opposite, the power to forget, is a necessary condition for our existence." - Sholem Asch, _The Nazarene_

"Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear."

– William Shakespeare

"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." - Tennessee Williams

Chapter 1: No name. No past. No future?

A thick mist blanketed the beach, mirroring the dreary gray clouds that gave the sky that peculiar lonely feel that's only really felt at the seashore when the weather is turning foul. It was this place that Stephen Blackburn, heir to the Star Faction and leader of the Scarlet Faction used for his quiet meditative walks. The gloomy weather cast a perfect mood for somber introspection. However, on this walk he was distracted by something rather curious that the surf had washed ashore.

The icy ocean waves swept around the blonde kid's body, but he didn't notice. In fact he didn't notice anything at all. The boy was unconscious. He was lucky though. From the looks of him Stephen didn't think he should be alive at all. The boy was emaciated, although that didn't have anything with the coldness of the water, Stephen thought. He was pale and his lips had a slightly bluish sheen. For all intents and purposes he looked dead, and Stephen had thought this was the case until he saw the kid's pulse ticking away steadily –albeit slowly- at his malnourished temple.

The boy's clothes were better looking, though. He wore a black leather jacket, a red shirt, and loose fitting blue jeans. Stephen approved of the get-up, but thought it would look more appropriate on someone a little less scrawny. However, what really interested Stephen, the one thing that caught his eye about the boy's accessories was the belt he wore, and the three spheres held in clips on this belt. They were red on top and white on the bottom. No doubt about it, this kid was a pokemon trainer, even if his captoballs looked unfamiliar. A trainer of _three _pokemon. This kid had to be tough stuff. Even though he didn't look it, and couldn't be a day past eleven.

What was this kid doing passed out on the beach anyway? If he was strong enough to handle three pokemon, Stephen didn't think it likely that he was attacked by anything, but you never know. _Oh well. I'll find out when he wakes up._

Stephen slung the boy over his shoulder, noting the boy was heavier than he looked and trudged slowly away from the beach, and towards the Scarlet Faction's HQ.

The world leapt and rolled beneath his feet. The boy who called himself "I" and "me" had to struggle to keep his footing. "I" grabbed onto an indistinct gray bar to keep from being thrown like a cowboy off a bucking bronco. Everything was hidden behind a nebulous haze. Blurry. None of it made sense. "I" had no idea where he was. Noises gave no clue, it was all too much. Crashing. Yelling. Voices?" "I" called out to them. They did not respond. "I" looked around. Besides the bucking island "I" was on, there was only black ground and black sky. An explosion. Chaos. Red flashes. The world beneath his feet gave one final heave. Then the blackness swallowed "me." For an eternity there was only blackness. Then there was light. Dim orange light. But it was an improvement.

"I" blinked slowly. "I" was in a bed, but it was not his own. What was his bed like? "I" had forgotten. That didn't matter. "I" had more important things to think about. Like where "I" was.

Wherever "I" was it was past its prime. The wallpaper looked fancy, but it was loose, and in the corner to the right a strip had fallen clear off the wall. The carpeting was probably beige once, but now it looked sandy, and had dirty footprints leading from the door to the bed. The room had barely any furniture. To "I's" left there was an empty closet. He knew it was empty because the folding door had fallen off its sliders and he could see its interior. The door was on the left side of the wall "I" was facing. To its right was a long dresser that was missing a few drawers. Some of the missing drawers were laying on the floor front of it, but most were unaccounted for. On the wall to the right was a small round table with a lamp on it. The lampshade was torn and full of holes.

He got up, leaving the warm comfortable blanket (just why was he so _cold_?) and feeling a sudden draft realized he was completely naked. _Oh well, at least nobody's here to see me_, "I" thought. He began to look for something to wear, which he found rather quickly; his clothes were folded sloppily and stacked just as poorly on the table beside the lamp. At the very top of this stack was a hand scribbled note on a piece of torn white paper.

Hey, Driftwood!

We washed your clothes for you. When you wake up go see the boss, he wants to talk to you. By the time you wake up you'll probably be starving, so make him fix you a meal!

-Luke

P.S. Don't worry, Boss is guarding your captoballs. He'll give 'em back when you meet with him.

_Captoballs…? He must be referring to my pokeballs. That's weird. I've never heard them called that before._ All this made him wonder even more where he was. Maybe this boss had the answers. Probably. It didn't take an Einstein to know one's position on the globe.

He dressed quickly, folded the note and put it in the pocket of his leather jacket (he was still so _cold_). "I" walked towards the door, put his hand on the knob, and heard voices. The previously silent void on the other side of the door became a cacophony of voices. He paused. Hesitation and a sigh. _For answers_, he thought. And then stepped through the doorway.

He now stood at the edge of a living room. It was in the same rough condition as the room he had stayed in. Dirty carpet, falling wallpaper, missing furniture. Well, besides one couch which was covered in stains, burn marks (?), and holes. At the far end of the left wall was the front door. And standing there was a row of shocked kids.

The sudden silence was deafening in the short time that it would last. Excited cries of "Hey boss, the driftwood's awake," and the accompanying jumping and waving from the kid was enough to ensure its demise.

"I can see that, Luke." The tallest of the group said. He was at the head of the line. His hair was a dusty brown and was parted in the middle, like "I's," although longer. A faint shadow of stubble was visible on his jaws. Blue eyes glistened from their sockets. The jacket he wore was black, although not leather like "I's." Under that he wore a white shirt (with a few stains) and faded blue jeans that were a tiny bit too small.

Behind him was another boy, having messy black hair and dark brown eyes. He wore a blue jean coat, black shirt and tattered jeans.

Next was a girl with brown eyes and fire red hair that was waist length. She wore a tight white midriff, sleeveless leather jacket, and a knee length skirt. Her shoes were white at one time, but now they were a sandy color, the pink detailing being the only thing about them that looked new.

After that was a boy with short green hair. Not neatly combed, but not as messy as the boy with the black hair. He had blue eyes even brighter than the leader's. His jean jacket matched his eyes, and he wore a dark indigo-violet shirt under that. His jeans were black, except where stained by mud splashed up from puddles treaded under foot by his hiking boots.

These were the only members of the group who looked older than the "driftwood," but there were more in line. The first of these younger ones was Luke, the one who called him Driftwood and wrote the note left with his clothing. His hair was a messy red mop. His T-shirt was black and his pants faded blue.

Behind him was an even younger pretty girl. She had blonde hair and aquamarine eyes. She wore a white, but stained button up blouse. Her skirt was ankle length, navy blue and pleated.

That's where the visible line ended, although protesting voices from outside showed that there were still more kids out there waiting to be let in, but unfortunately they were blocked by the immobile gawkers already indoors.

The boy who washed ashore looked towards Stephen.

"Are you the boss?" He asked. Stephen nodded. Stephen then turned to face his… _Friends? Relatives? Employees?_ And said:

"Alright everybody, me and the driftwood have some talking to do, so you won't bug us if you know what's good for you. Ya hear?"

"Yes, Boss!" Shouted several voices in unison, the only ones who didn't agree to the conditions were the kids who were still outside, whining about the cold.

"Damn it, Marsha, quite blocking the doorway!" Stephen shouted.

"Sorry!" the little blonde girl squealed and ran off. By now the formerly straight line was dissolving.

"You hungry, Driftwood?" Stephen asked. The boy opened his mouth to say "I'm starving," but was interrupted when his own stomach gave off a rather fearsome growl. "I guess that answers that, huh?" Then he turned to the red-head. "Alyssa, make the man some dinner, alright?"

"Yes boss." She headed towards the kitchen.

"Alright," Stephen said to Driftwood. "Come with me." The boy silently followed Stephen through a door in the wall he was facing. "I" shut the door as he went through.

They were now in a mostly empty room that lacked the wallpaper that was in the other rooms. The wall the faced had two doors. Stephen took the door on the left.

This room was also bare, except for some posters on the wall. In the middle of the room a stair case led down, and down they went.

The basement was pitch black until Stephen yanked a pullstring that illuminated a single uncovered lightbulb. It wasn't much brighter afterwards, but it was enough to see by. They walked down a hall in the direction of the living room until reaching a door on the left, which they entered. Stephen flipped the lightswitch.

The walls were white and each one had its own clock that ticked continuously, which broke the complete silence of the room. In the middle of the room was a square table with five or six chairs around it. The room also had many colorful beanbag chairs.

"This," Stephen began, "Is the meeting room. I brought you down here because this is the only place we'll get some peace and quiet in this funhouse." There was the sound of running footsteps from upstairs. "Well, as much peace and quiet as can be had here."

"But, where is here, anyway?" The boy asked.

"I'll get to that, but I was wondering if you could tell me a little about yourself first, if it doesn't bother you."

"Well, my name is… um…" He continued to stammer. Then his jaw dropped. _It just won't come! Why can't I say my name? What is my name? Holy crap! I can't remember my name!_ As his mind began reeling a panic-stricken look came over him. He went pale and the room started to have a grayish tint. Black flecks danced across his visual field. _Why can't I remember? What happened to me? Who were my parents? Why?_

He leapt out of his seat and his chair toppled over.

"I don't remember!" He blurted, tears forming in his eyes. "I don't remember anything!" He turned around frantically as if looking for something to remind him of his past. There was only the unfamiliar in this room. "I" felt dizzy, like the world beneath his feet was spinning fast enough to launch him clear off the planet. The boy lurched to one side, and only through an act of sheer will kept himself from fainting.

"Whoa, kid just calm down!" Stephen advised.

"Calm… down…? How can I calm down?" Tears streamed down his cheeks, as he righted the chair. "I can't even remember my freaking _name_! I don't remember my parents either!"

He sat down again, folded his arms on the table, put his head down and began to sob. Stephen slid a box of Kleenex to him. The boy blew his nose and began to ramble.

"I should have known I forgot before I came here. So stupid. B-but, it's not like I get up in the morning and think to myself, 'Gee, I better start thinking about my name, wouldn't want to forget it today!' And I d-don't think I… I… had to keep a picture of my parents by my nightstand so I didn't forget their faces!"

More sobs. Stephen was beginning to feel really sorry for the kid, he lost his own parents at an early age and knew how it felt to be alone.

"It's okay, we'll get to the bottom of this. Did you keep any I.D. in your wallet?"

The boy's face lit up.

"Sure! My League Trainer License!"

"League Trainer License!" Stephen exclaimed, his eyes widening with surprise. But, the boy was too busy grabbing his wallet to even notice. He tore it open frantically and pulled out a card from a credit card holder. And his expression changed so quickly it was almost comical. Tears began welling up again.

The card was badly smeared. Most of the text was illegible.

"Let me see that." Stephen said. The amnesiac boy handed the ID over to Stephen, who examined it. Clearly it was the ID of some sort of organization. The boy had said "League Trainer License," but that was ridiculous. The Pokemon League was dissolved hundreds of years ago. The kid probably had just belonged to another faction before losing his memory. After all, to become the next League was the goal of most factions and more than one already claimed that they were the one true League. Driftwood here must have belonged to one of these arrogant groups. There was a picture of him on the ID, but it was almost unrecognizable. Stephen searched the card's text for a name, and he found where it should have been. The word "name" was easy to read, but what followed it was an illegible smear.

"Don't you have any other ID?"

"No…" The boy said glumly, after a brief search through the contents of his wallet again.

"Well, what should we call you?" Stephen asked.

"Preferably something other than Driftwood." The boy retorted. Stephen laughed.

"I suppose you're right, it's not a very proper name, now is it?" Stephen stroked his chin and cocked his head. "Hmm… you look like an Erik to me," _Like my father_. "Whaddya say?" "Erik" looked down, deep in though. The corners of his mouth formed a weak smile.

"Yeah, I like that name. But, I guess I'm gonna need a last name too."

Stephen adopted his melodramatic "I'm thinking and examining you" posture again. This time it was for a while longer.

"Moses. You were drawn out of the water, just like he was."

"Erik Moses. Sounds good. But, um… who is this Moses guy, anyway?" Erik was confused. It sounded so _familiar_.

"Geez kid, didn't they have religion where you come from?" Stephen looked confused.

"I think so… but… I don't remember."

Stephen sighed.

"Alright, alright. You're Erik Moses. We can have Sunday school later, I guess." He winked at Erik. "But, I suppose you're worried about your pokemon."

"Yeah." Erik replied.

"Then, here ya go." Stephen said, and handed Erik the belt. Erik removed the pokeballs, then the clips and fed the belt through the loops in his jeans. Stephen looked on with disinterest. "You mind telling me what pokemon you have, or did you forget that too?" Erik looked offended.

"No! Of course I remember! Charmander, Totodile and Treeko!" He shouted.

"So… let me get this straight, you got your pokemon _after_ you lost your memory?" Stephen asked.

"No."

"But you still remember them? You remember where you got them, too?"

Erik looked thoughtful for a moment.

"They were gifts." He replied after a while. "But that's all I can remember. That, and how to battle."

"Hey! That's good news. But, someone actually just _gave_ you your pokemon?" _That's crazy! Nobody would just_ give _away a pokemon!_

"Yeah, I'm just not sure who…"

"I guess it was your faction leader, it doesn't make much sense for it to be anyone else."

"Faction?"

"You know, the organization you're affiliated with."

"Oh. You mean the Pokemon League?"

"Right I guess…" _Is he playing games?_ "But what was the official name?"

"I dunno, I guess the _official_ name would be long and fancy sounding, like 'The Region of Whatever Official Pokemon League, United' or something."

Stephen sighed irritably. _This is hopeless._ But to curb his annoyance he told himself: _relax, the kid's confused, he has amnesia for heaven's sake._

"Hey, what's the deal!" Erik asked irritably. "If you don't want _me_ to answer your questions, why don't _you_ answer mine?"

"Hmph. Alright, Erik, I'm sorry, just your stuff about the Pokemon League sounds a little unbelievable."

"What? Why should it?"

"You want me to answer your questions or not?"

Erik muttered.

"Alright, what do you want to know?"

"Where I am for starters, where you found me, about factions, and why the hell you won't believe me about the Pokemon League!"

"Whoa, chill. I'm sorry I upset you. I'll tell you everything, then maybe you'll understand why I didn't believe you."

"Okay, shoot away."

"I found you two days ago. You had washed ashore on the beach behind this property. At first I thought you were dead, but since I saw your pulse I decided I had better take you in." Stephen explained.

"That's why I was so cold!" Erik exclaimed.

Stephen threw his head back and chuckled, it was a warm friendly sound, and despite prior hostilities, Erik just couldn't dislike the guy.

"Yeah, it's September now, and the ocean's already begun to get pretty cold."

"Go on, go on!" Erik urged. "I still don't even know where I am."

"You're currently in the 'Old Mansion,' the headquarters of the Scarlet Faction. Right at the shore of the Purralis Sea. This in turn is located in Garnetville, a small town in the north eastern-most part of the Rennid Region."

"Ok. You keep referring to Factions. What exactly do you mean by that?" Erik asked.

"Alright. I'll tell you, but I'll have to give you a little historical background for you to understand it all. And, you'll finally get why I didn't believe you were a member of the Pokemon League."

"Let's hear it."

"A few hundred years ago the world was a better place. The world was governed by the Pokemon League and everything flourished. The League had a noble order of knights called Pokemon Trainers."

"Noble order of knights? We didn't-"

Stephen cut him off with a glare. Erik swallowed nervously and looked down.

"Sorry."

"Anyway, these knights were given a Pokemon at a young age to train. They would capture more- and there were more Pokemon in those times- and compete to be the strongest when times were peaceful. Eventually the League's influence was so pervasive that almost every aspect of life pertained to Pokemon training and nearly every youngster became a Pokemon Trainer. Then something happened. We don't know what, but we _do_ know it was something big."

"Something… big?"

"It was big enough to leave the world in tatters and cause the destruction of the Pokemon League."

"What? That's crazy, I haven't even had my license a year yet, and you talk this hundreds of years later stuff-" _How did I know how long I had my license? I must be recovering my memories…_

"Quiet. You don't have to believe me, but this is stuff you will need to know. You'll believe later." Stephen quipped.

Erik folded his arms and sighed.

"Alright tell your story. And if you're making it up, just quit now. I've lost my memories, and I don't need you trying to confuse me. Things are crazy enough for me already."

"You'll believe later." Stephen repeated, and then continued his tale. "The League and all forms of government were gone. So were electricity and a lot of other public services. We were thrown into a sort of dark age. Anarchy ruled and crime was rampant. Eventually a man named Lysander decided to take a stand. He became a mighty trainer, the first of this caliber since the collapse of the league, and developed a large following. Him and his followers established the Phoenix League. There looked like there was hope for a while. Electricity was restored to many places and many children once more took up the path of the Pokemon Trainer. However… this didn't last forever. Some of the higher ups in the Phoenix League began squabbling over matters of policy. Lysander had trouble keeping the League together. And then he… just vanished. To this day nobody knows what happened to him. But regardless what actually happened, the same higher ups now accused each other of foul play. Twelve people took their own followings and started the first rival factions. When division began it spread like wildfire. Not only were there twelve large groups, each competing to be considered the Official League, but now a lot of small time trainers with big ambitions tried to do the same."

Erik looked thunderstruck.

"This was in the time of my great grandfather. He was a high ranking official in one of the larger of the twelve main factions, the Star Faction. His son, my grandfather eventually came to lead the Star Faction. My father inherited the position as well. When I was young my father was assassinated and my mother assumed control of the Faction, and I was sent to live with a friend of the family until things cooled down. They never did. My mother was also assassinated, and the Star Faction was wrested from my family's control." Stephen clenched a fist. "Under the care of my now adoptive family I grew older and learn what I had really lost. I decided to become a Pokemon Trainer and to one day take control of the Star Faction again. I trained hard and eventually decided it was time for me to start my own faction. The Scarlet Faction. However, Allen, my adoptive father didn't want me getting involved in the violent, often bloody battles between Factions. His wife Linda also objected. I was enraged and I… I ran away. It was a mistake, I see that now, but there was nothing you could say to convince me of that back then. I journeyed northward where I was more likely to find unoccupied territory. It was a difficult trek, but by sheer luck I survived and made it to Garnetville."

"Which is where we are now, right?" Erik inquired.

"Yes." Stephen replied. "This town is where the Scarlet Faction was born. We established our headquarters in this abandoned mansion and remain here to this day."

"So… what're you guys all about? You say you want to take back the Star Faction… but are you also looking to rebuild the League?"

"Hmm… we're really not that different from other factions. Yes our goal is the retaking of the Star Faction, and yes we are trying to establish ourselves as the one true Pokemon League as our end goal. But, we do other stuff too. It's typical Faction stuff, but I guess I can't assume you know… or… remember, what that entails. Basically, we in the Scarlet Faction are the _de facto_ government of Garnetville. Yeah, there's a mayor, and bureaucratic positions filled by adults. But, we have a strong influence on how this place runs, as we're the only way the government has any power. We're the police, the tax collectors, military etc. We do the dirty work while the politicians sit there pushing papers in city hall. We also help with some management type stuff, utilities and what have you. Anyway, we currently have fifteen members, well, sixteen if you'll join us."

"You're not making this up!" Erik declared. "This is too detailed to make up just to play mind games with the kid who washed ashore a few days ago. But, that means… I couldn't have been in the League… but I was! I was, damn it! It's the only thing I do know for sure. I don't remember joining, I don't remember getting my pokemon, but I know I was in the League! It's the only thing I _am_ sure of!" Erik protested.

"I don't disbelieve you anymore." Stephen stated. "I can tell you're not lying, or at least that you really believe you were in the League. But whether you were or weren't, Erik, it doesn't matter anymore. There is no League here. There's just us. Officially known as the Scarlet Faction, we're called the Crimson Crew by us informally and by our supporters."

"You want me… in the Crimson Crew…?"

"Yes. We need all the help we can get. Even if it is Driftwood." He smiled.

"I don't know… I haven't…" He cut himself off with a sigh.

"Relax. I know this is a big decision, and I know you're wore out…"

"And starved." Erik added.

"Right! Me too. Let's see if Alyssa made us anything good."

Erik put his hand on the door knob and began to turn it when Stephen spoke up.

"Erik, I don't know if you should tell the others everything you told me."

"Hmm…?"

"I don't know why exactly, but I don't think you'll get positive reaction from being an amnesiac who claims to be a Trainer from the Pokemon League. Just act like Erik Moses was always your name and that you were separated from your family in a fishing or a boating accident." Stephen instructed.

Erik looked nervous.

"I don't like to lie." Erik explained.

"You don't have to. After all, we technically don't know the truth about what happened to you to tell it."

Erik didn't look relieved.

"Relax, it'll all work out. Let's go eat dinner, I haven't eaten since breakfast. Then you can get to bed again, you look like you need it. Tomorrow I'll introduce you to everybody and take you on a tour of the place. Then, we can see how much you _do_ remember about battling."

A faint smile formed at the corners of Erik's mouth. Maybe life here wouldn't be so bad after all.

Alyssa was a decent cook, although she wouldn't get a job in a five star resort. However, Erik had never had a better meal in his life. Afterwards he retired to his temporary dwelling place, the guest room he had awoken in. The boy was exhausted, although it took him several hours to fall asleep. He tossed and turned thinking about what Stephen had told him. A history he didn't remember. A family he couldn't remember. A League that he knew he was a part of, but had ended hundreds of years before his time. His pokemon were proof enough to him. He knew he got one when joining the League. He didn't remember receiving it, and he didn't remember which one that actually was. But, if he wasn't in the League he wouldn't have them at all. Erik found himself having the juvenile hope that maybe this was just a dream. When he woke up it would be under the stars on a trail somewhere, and he would continue his journey.

The morning destroyed these hopes, and when Erik realized he could never go back to the life he didn't remember, he almost wept again.


End file.
